


For Even the Moon May Pierce Through to Hell

by kittymaverick



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, I might even have to change the work title..., Like I'm not sure what they've got going on by the end of this is a relationship really, The slowest burn in history ever, What is proofreading I'm just gonna throw out this first draft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-02-16 05:18:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18684913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittymaverick/pseuds/kittymaverick
Summary: As legal trouble relating to the Redgrave invicent threatened to pull Nero into the mix, Morrison decided to reach out to an old contact and friend and cash in on a large favor...An OFC-centric fic detailing how my OC, Tsukiko, and Vergil met. The beginning of the slowest burn I've probably envisioned, ever...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Currently still a rough draft. I just need to save it for now.

**August 9th, 7:24 PM**

Click, click, click, went the heels of a pair of stilettos against chocolate marble floors, neither hurried nor hesitant. In and out of the shadows of a series of Roman columns, a woman walked, confident and with purpose. She glanced at the busts of famous bankers between the pillars. Lit from beneath, their gaze appeared to followed any who dared proceed. Yet saunter on she did, to reached the bottom of an opulent spiral stairway. Even as she ascended the first step, the statues dared not reveal even a hint of their twisted gargoyle nature. They were not her targets. They knew better than to stand between hunter and prey.

Outside, beyond velvet red curtains, lightning flashed above a glowing metropolis. It only served to illuminate the gemstones on the the woman’s champagne evening dress. With a neckline that bloomed on one shoulder like a lily and a train that shimmered under the golden sconce lighting, it was an unusual battle attire, for anyone else that is. For her, this was part of the job, part of her nature. The fundraiser dinner tens of floors below was strictly black-tie only, after all. Looking like she was actually an attendee, real invitation and all, was both courtesy and strategy. No host dare mistreat a guest; the sacred law of hospitality must be observed. Bound where they to ceremony and etiquette, all her target could do was send ill omens that threatened to do harm as the distance between them closed.

As if the brewing storm was not enough to signal her approach, an orchestra began to play. A recording of a live performance jingled. The woman pulled out her phone from a hidden breast pocket. The rapid sautille of strings of Vivaldi’s Summer Presto echoed in the chamber as she read the name displayed on the screen.

Amused by what she saw, the woman pursed her lips, then took the call. “J.D. Morrison, how unexpected,” she said, voice lilted.

“It’s been a long time, Tsukiko,” The broker replied. “How have you been? Still doing your thing?”

Tsukiko checked the time. Morrison should be halfway across the world, nine hours behind. A call at this particular time in the evening meant he planned carefully to reach her specifically. This was not a blind survey of his contacts. It was targeted head-hunting. “Thanks to you and many others, yes. Business is steady and the challenges rewarding. Now to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” She stepped off the last step of the stairway. Demonic energies fluctuated and pulsed, skittering and hissing as they crawled along the walls and floors to seal off the corridor she entered.

There was a long sigh on the other end of the phone. “If you’re busy right now, I ain’t gonna impose.”

“I’m a multitasker,” Tsukiko noted the reluctance, half genuine, half reverse-psychology to grab her curiosity.

"This be a long story, if you catch my drift.”

“A long story, huh?” Tsukiko repeated. At the end of the corridor before her, the last obstacle stood: A heavy set of oak doors sealed shut by webs of demonic power. As she approached, the webs congealed into a semblance of something legible, a runic circle of sorts.

Now this, was a cake walk, so much of one she almost wanted to call it a slight.

“Let me guess: you’ve ran into some trouble. Big trouble, in fact, on account of a certain job you took back in May,” Tsukiko pressed an index finger onto the web seal before her. The runes sharpen and began to vibrate.

There was a sigh of relief from Morrison's end. “Well, if you’ve heard that much, then I suppose you know the gist of it."

“The gist? I’m more inclined to call what I came across the SparkNotes of an entire book,” Tsukiko quipped. The sigil before her crunched loudly. One of the major strands of web, and a third of the seal attached, stopped wavering. “What happened at Redgrave has become such a legal mess that the entire Eastern Court-- and half of the others-- has been bouncing that hot potato around like they’re volleying for a world record.”

“Definitely true. I’ve had nothing but bad news of the capital B kind dropping down on me since. You could also say it's been rather Bad for Business," confessed Morrison.

“Call me impressed. Even for an old bird, I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long against their scrutiny.” Another third of the seal froze. Only the top was left, whipping back and forth in a frenzied buzz. “So, why have you come to me then? If you’re looking for a lawyer, I’m afraid I only know...two.”

“I’m cashing in on that old favor.”

The two parts of the seal that had frozen jumped back to life. Tsukiko snatched her hand back with a tsk. As she checked for broken nails, a glob of matter, slick like oil, began to bubble behind her. “Really? You’ve been sitting on it for so long. I dare say there's even an interest to collect there.” She grasped the seal by the center, re-initiating her disassembly.

“Read my mind there, girl,” a hint of levity returned in Morrison’s voice. “Job’s simple. Need you to locate a couple of folks for me, is all. Completely within your capabilities.”

“Ah, but the devil's in the details, isn't it?” Tsukiko mused as she regained a third of the seal, then two thirds. “You don’t just need me for my capabilities. You need me so when the Court comes knocking, I would be the one who answers the door. They can't demand anything from you if someone who’s considered one of their own is already working on the case. They can't even complain if it's not going in their favor. But for that to happen..." Tsukiko tapped her toes. "You're asking me to stretch my neck out pretty thin here, pro bono even. Writing off that debt by itself... isn't all that enticing? You got anything to sweeten the pot with?”

The question was met with silence. Limbs, too many sprouting from a single source, long and gangly, emerged from the portal behind Tsukiko. With a squelch, a Nobody dragged itself out of the portal. It shook off splashes of ectoplasm, opened its maw and hissed.

Somebody didn't care for that, though. “Still there, J.D.?" Tsukiko asked, switching ears and wondering if she lost the signal. "You letting this ol’ girl hang? Are there truly no diamonds to be my best friend?”

“How about this,” Morrison proposed, “I’mma introduce you to a nice boy.” Meanwhile, the Nobody surveyed the area. It noticed the woman, her back exposed, her concentration dead set on the seal of the door, a perfect target.

“A boy?” Tsukiko wondered. It was about time Morrison made that offer, but this was not the profile she expected. “Not a man, but a boy?”

“A young man, to be exact. And once you've met this nice boy, you'll get why I'm calling.” Morrison spelled out vaguely. “So how about it? Fancy a trip out to here? Say the word and your ticket’s booked."

The Nobody rushed forward, large claw open, grasping. Before it could touch either Tsukiko or seal or door, the webs burst into splinters. A shockwave shoved the lesser demon back. As it reared up in shock, the demonic ley lines along the floor, walls and ceiling dissolved, leaving nothing but the smell of brimstone in the air.

Before Tsukiko, the office door opened on their own with a creak, like they were waiting for her all along. “Think you can make that ticket business class? You know how much I pack whenever I travel," she requested.

“Deal and done. A special upgrade just for you,” Morrison said, open and frank. Seemed the man was already grateful she had agreed to whatever it was he wanted her to do.

“I’ll send you the details within the hour. Good hunting, Morrison.” Tsukiko hung up. She tucked her phone back down her collar, then pulled out a small hand mirror to check on her make up. “Back out west, huh? It’s been a while since I’ve been about the area. Think I'm going to need to make a few calls, write a couple letters, maybe even send some doves...”

In the mirror’s reflection, she noticed the bewildered Nobody behind her, turning around in a circle like it was on a turntable. A soft ‘oopsies’ left her mouth.

“Sorry Thing. That was a false alarm. You can go back home.”

The Nobody, upon hearing it wasn’t needed, slumped. An eyeball on its back plopped to the floor. Now if only one of its masks were capable of giving people a look of resentful disappointment.

Tsukiko sighed in consolation, “I know. Sorry for speed dialling you by accident. Here, don’t leave this behind. Go have some red orbs on my account. Promise I won’t disturb your beauty sleep next time.” She picked up the eyeball and shoved it into the Nobody’s giant hand. Reluctantly stomping away, Thing sunk into the floor with one bubbly mournful warble. “Night to you too. Don't forget the manicure session tomorrow!” Tsukiko waved it goodbye with a smile. The mirror in her other hand disappeared back to where it came from with a twinkle.

And now, with no more distractions, it’s time to have a meeting with the gracious, and cornered, host.

* * *

 

The office room was warm, not just from the fancy fireplace to the side, but also from the vaguely humanoid figure standing behind the office desk. Clad in a well-tailored suit, the bearded demon chewed on a cigar as it stared out the windows. Soft fire burned between two curved horns. The tips of its hairs set off cinders with every exhale. As it waited anxiously, its oblong pupils glowed, burning eternally, crawling with never-ceasing lines of embers.

YOU. The demon seethed, seeing Tsukiko walk in so leisurely.

“Good evening, good demon sir,” she greeted. “I don’t believe we’ve the pleasure of each other’s acquaintance.”

The demon stomped onto the desk, its hooves burning the documents beneath its feet. WITCH OF ASHES, it called out, eyes trained on Tsukiko. THE BINDING SORCERESS.

“Ah, it seems my reputation precedes me--”

PROPHETESS OF THE IVORY TOWER.

“That title, I haven’t actually inherited.” Tsukiko corrected. “Honestly, I would prefer not to--”

SLITHERING SILVER-TONGUED VIPER. SLIMY, CONNIVING BITCH--

“Now that’s not very nice. It’s rather unbecoming, using such words before a lady.”

WHY HAVE YOU COME? The demon pulled itself to full height. The once semi-humanoid form and clothing shredded and burned as a bestial form emerged. TO CHAIN ME TO YOUR WILL? COLLECT A PRICE ON MY HEAD?

“The board of directors are well aware of your recent manipulations of the market, Balthazar. To say they are displeased would be an understatement” Tsukiko stated, “There’s also the matter of the CEO’s daughter. He’s not please that she has turned down another well-arranged marriage, again. though in her defense, she only did it after the prospective groom wetted himself, on account of his tea being laced with diuretics.”

HE ASKED FOR PROSPERITY. THE ONE SHE WAS PROMISED TO PROVIDED IT NOT. The demon shouted, breath hot and scalding. SHE DESERVES BETTER, AND I SHALL SEE THAT SHE GETS THE BETTER, AS PROMISED TO HER FATHER.

“Now that I can agree with, but your actions to fulfil that promise thus far has only made the CEO question whether you intend to wed Megumi yourself.” Tsukiko noted.

PREPOSTEROUS! The demon swung an arm, knocking over an armchair. MEGUMI, SHE IS AS MUCH MY CHILD AS SHE IS HIS.

“Certainly, which is what I tried reminding the CEO of. Alas, his paranoia outlasted my attempts at reasoning with him. Hence, the current state of your contract.” Tsukiko produced forth a scroll, blackened and partially burnt. “Can you imagine my surprise there was anything to be found? Though my experience tells me that with your contract damaged so, you’ve not been able to leave this room since the day it was burnt.”

The demon growled, a hand over his face. A BROKEN BOND MEANS A BROKEN MASK. I CANNOT HOLD MY FORM WITHOUT STABLE POWER. Tsukiko offers the scroll. The demon takes it between two fingers, holding as it if were a needle. AND YET THERE IS ENOUGH FOR ME TO REMAIN IN THIS REALM, SO HE MUST HAVE NEED OF ME STILL?

“Someone has to take responsibility for what happened to the share prices.” Tsukiko said.

A SCAPEGOAT, The demon spat. HE ASKED FOR THAT MANIPULATION, AND YET I MUST TAKE THE BLAME?

"Something else you should be aware of." With a flick of her wrist, a notebook appeared in Tsukiko's hand, one weathered from age and use. She handed it over to Balthazar. “The secret of your name, used to summon you. Note the draft on the last couple of pages. The terms he wants you to agree to now are far inferior to what you had before. ”

TERMS MEANT FOR A SERVANT. A SLAVE. Balthazar the demon said, thumbing through the book. SUCH IS THE REWARD OF AIDING HUMANS? TO THINK I BELIEVED HIM TO BE BENEVOLENT. YOUR KIND TRULY ARE NO BETTER THAN DEMONS.

“If the CEO has been pretending to be a friend for the decades you've been with him, I’m terribly sorry you were lied to.” Tsukiko made a deep bow.

The action piqued Balthazar's curiosity. WHO SENT YOU, WITCH OF ASHES? he asked, peering down at her. YOU COME UP UNINVITED, BEARING A DRAFT OF A NEW CONTRACT MY MASTER WOULD NOT HAVE WANTED ME TO SEE, WITH NO INTENTION TO ENSLAVE ME TO HIM OR YOURSELF. HE IS ALSO NOT ONE TO ALLOW A PROXY TO APPROACH ME VIA THE EVENT BELOW. HE LIKES CONFRONTATIONS TO BE... DIRECT.

“Indeed, your current master is not the one who sent me. Though, about the invitation, confidentiality's part of the trade, I'm afraid. Plus, a woman must have her secrets." Tsukiko put a finger to her lips coyly. "Just know that whomever provided me a way in wants things to be to your interests. And speaking of interests, are you aware of Hasa Metallurgy Industries?”

A GROWING COMPETITOR. Balthazar nodded. THEIR CURRENT CEO IS YOUNG, AMBITIOUS.

“Reckless too, at least when it comes to demon summoning.” Tsukiko eyed a roll of newspaper on the floor. The title reported on a factory explosion’s investigation, and how poorly it is proceeding. “Minoru could use a good guidance from a demon with better intentions, in my opinion.”

AND WHAT WILL YOU GET OUT OF THIS ARRANGEMENT? Balthazar eyed her with suspicion.

“As the contract’s witness and broker,” Tsukiko said, “I gain access to a portion of the contract’s bond, energy, and knowledge, of which I may use when I have need of it. Have no fear, the amount I access shall have no impact on your daily routine. At most it's a tingle on the fingertips.”

KNOWLEDGE OF OUR NATURE, AND ACCESS TO A PORTION OF THE RESERVOIR, Balthazar pondered a moment. OF COURSE, AND FROM SUCH YOU CRAFT YOUR WICKED SPELLS. IT’S AN ADAPTATION OF THE WITCH’S PACT, IS IT NOT?

“Now that’s trade secrets territory, an even more forbidden a topic.” Tsukiko wagged a finger. “So, what will it be? I have no qualms of letting you burn your name and contract here and now to return to the Underworld, but I thought the opportunity at HMI might interest you.”

Balthazar gave a short chuckle. He tosses the notebook into the fireplace, and watched it turn to ashes. The scroll he held onto, for the moment. HAVE YOU THE NEW CONTRACT FOR ME TO SIGN?

“I’m more of the paperless type. Sustainability is the new vellem, is what I like to call it.” Tsukiko said. “If you are so eager, then repeat after me. _In the name of the Divine, I swear my name to thee_...”


	2. Meeting

**August 15th, 7:32 am**

“Oi, sleepy head. We’re here.” Nico turned off the ignition of the mobile Devil May Cry van. Not hearing much of a response from the passenger seat, she slapped Nero on the arm to wake him. Removing a gunsmithing magazine he had on his face, the young devil hunter stretched and yawned, tossing his makeshift sleeping mask behind him.

“Where’s here, exactly?” he asked, rubbing his eye.

“Dante’s office, duh,” Nico answered, “Or Trish and Lady’s, or Morrison’s. Hell, that’s half of why we’re here, ain’t it?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. No need to remind me.” Nero grimaced. He hopped out of the van and headed towards the office. The building’s exterior looked exactly the same as when last they were here, neon sign and all. It’s like nothing has changed, even when it wasn’t the case. “You coming along?” He turned around to his partner mechanic.

Nico, having lit what was probably her fifth cigarette of the morning, took a long drag and exhaled. “Gimme a moment to chill,” She twiddled the cigarette between her fingers, “Then I’ll be right with ya.”  
  
Nero nodded, and walked up the steps of the landing. He open the double doors and entered the one and only Devil May Cry office. “Lady? Trish? Morrison?” He called out. “Anyone here?”

There was no reply. The lights weren’t on, but the fan was rotating, keeping the air somewhat flowing. The piles of pizza boxes and empty alcohol bottles had been thrown out, at the very least. The place didn’t smell like it was drenched in rancid dairy, whiskey and frying oil any more, but there was still a hint of it every now and then. From what Nero heard, neither Trish nor Lady had truly settled down in here enough that they bothered to give the place the thorough cleaning it needed. That said, they seem to care about the way it was enough that they haven’t gotten rid of any of anything iconic to the office. The record player was still there, as was the bar. The office desk smack in the middle of the first floor remained as always, with an unplugged rotary phone and a framed photo of a woman who is most definitely not Trish, but someone Nero should be calling grandmother—

The thought of how the revelation about his family was delivered, when it was given, and HOW late it had been frustrated Nero. He walked over to one of the couches and plopped down. It’s been exactly, what, two months since what happened at Redgrave? When he saw the Qliphoth came crashing down, he thought that was the end of that. At first, life returned to normal. He and Nico went back to Fortuna after dropping Trish and Lady off, giving Kyrie the surprise of a lifetime just like he promised. The boys that live with them, seeing his newly acquired Devil Trigger form, nearly made a playground out of him. After tiring them out and putting them to bed, he told Kyrie everything that had transpired over a hearty late dinner. After that, the day-long fatigue knocked him out for a full 12 hours, a sleep so deep he didn’t recall any dreams upon waking.  
  
When he came to, Nico let him know that Morrison had called to give them a job. There were still plenty of demons spilling out of the Redgrave region that needed to be taken care of. So off they went on the road again, doing one clean up after another. Things were going off without a hitch. They even ran into Crew Cut and his squadron escorting people back to their homes. Humanity's recovery was progressing smooth as butter, was the way Morrison put it. Three weeks into the jobs though, Nero couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched. Not the kind the soldiers gave him, full of awe and respect, or the kind filled with distain from folks who were not too keen of foreign mercenary or freelancers. In the most clichéd words, his demon senses were constantly tingling from the sensation of a pair of eyes gazing at the back of his head. He found himself always turning around to look behind him before, between and after the missions.  
  
And that was only the beginning. Some time in late July, as he was stepping out of the van’s shower one day, Nico told him that she saw some kid poking about the van. At first she thought it was a demon and nearly backed the god-damned van into them. When she got out to shoo them away, the kid was gone, like they’d evaporated into thin air. A couple of days after, he caught Kyrie having a small moment of hesitation over the phone. When asked about it, she said that a strange foreigner in some sort of uniform had been looking at their house intently. When she approached the person, they walked away before she could ask a single question. Whomever it was, she was certain that it wasn’t Dante, or Trish, or Lady, or Morrison. They didn’t have white or silver hair too, or black even. At best she could tell, the person wore a habit of some kind, one that clearly wasn’t the type they wore in Fortuna.  
  
Nero and Nico booked it back to the island that night as fast as the van could take them. When Morrison called to inquire why they’d left so suddenly, they demanded for answers. The broker evaded much of their questioning, saying there were matters they best not get themselves too involved in by being confrontational. All he could do was warn them to check the van thoroughly for anything strange.

Nico damn near took the van apart down to its engine component in their inspection. Even Kyrie and the kids helped. They searched the nook and crannies, nuts and bolts, only to find nothing. While that was one concern less, Nero didn’t feel quite ready to leave Kyrie and the boys alone again to go on another week-long demon hunt. With Nico in agreement (as she wanted to make improvements on the devil breakers) they let Morrison know that they wanted a short break, just so things could settle down a bit. The broker respected that, letting them know that he knows just the people to step into their shoes, and wished them the best on their break.

One would think Nero being back in Fortuna would be the end of all those troubles. Somehow, the paranoia only amped up. Every couple of days, he would spot someone peering around the corner. Attempting to chase whomever it was down only resulted in him looking into an deserted back alley, abandoned house, or empty chapel. Even Lady and Trish called at one point, asking what on earth was going on with these clean-up missions, as they were also getting the sense that they were being stalked.

It all came to a head as Morrison called him one middle of the night, saying that there were some heavy explaining to do, ones that are best done at the Devil May Cry main branch office. And so that’s how Nero came to end up here, waiting impatiently for some answers that’ll hopefully give him some peace of mind, though it seemed lately that answers to any questions he had, or didn't have, are only giving him more headaches.

The sound of a motorcycle roared to a stop in front of the office. Lady’s voice cut through the air. “Like I said, if you hadn’t drove over that hell caina so quickly—“

“You would be missing a hand right now,” Trish teased.

“And you wouldn’t have a scratch on your bike,” Lady said right back.

A car rolled up next, tires grinding against asphalt, the engine sputtering to a stop before a door opened and closed. “Morning, Lady, Trish,” Morrison greeted the two hunters arguing on the steps.  
  
“Morrison, you can get me a deal on a new coating for this, right?” Trish asked, “I was thinking of getting it in yellow this year, on Lady's tab.”  
  
“Uh uh, I am not paying for your new paint job,” Lady stated.  
  
“Now now, ladies, let’s save the riff-raff for later.” The doors opened, and Morrison strode in, fanning himself with his hat. “Well, well, looks like the boy's here already. How long you've been waiting, Nero?” The broker gave Nero a nod, one that the young demon hunter did not return.  
  
Lady poked her head in. “Wow, you really did come as soon as you were able,” she said, heading straight for the bar to pull up three glasses, filling them at the tap. “Did you sleep at all on your way here?”  
  
“Got enough that I'm awake now,” Nero answered, standing up and taking the first of the filled glass. The water in the city wasn’t as clean as it was in Fortuna, but it also didn’t have the smell of the sea that the island was perpetually drowned in. “Nico drove most of the way.”

"Where is our dear mechanical genius, anyway?" Morrison looked about.  
  
“Sound asleep at the wheel,” Trish walked in, removing her sunglasses with a swish of her head. “Want me to drag her in here?” Before Nero could nod, then decide against it, Trish was already out the door again. The sound of the van door opening and shutting accompanied Nico's yell. Nero hoped that Trish had dragged her out from the van gently, because Nico, if she really wanted to complain, could do it louder than any bird could squawk.  
  
“Well, that's four down. Guess we’re just missing our guest star, then,” Morrison noted, looking around the office. He sat down on the desk and lit a cigar. “Should be here any moment. I hope she got the right address.”

“Just who are we waiting for, Morrison?” Nero asked, temper as short as his words expressed. “Why’d you ask us to come here?"

"Cause you all be wanting some answers to what's going on lately."

"Yeah, but why the office? Couldn't you guys have come to Fortuna instead?"

"What I said. Taking us away from Kyrie and the kids," Nico tutted as she came in, dark circles under her eyes, "I don't like that. Leaves me feeling like we left a loaded gun in the oven." She dragged herself over to the coach before the stairs leading up to the second floor. The moment her knee touched it, Nico flopped onto the cushions and started snoring. Trish shook her head at the gunsmith's human needs, before picking up a fashion magazine off the floor and sliding onto the office table like a cat.

"If I were the one who was going to do all the talking, I would have headed to Fortuna myself," Morrison explained. "But I'm not. And... while I trust this person that I'm bringing in, I don't want to assume the same coming from you. Not quite sure you want a complete stranger showing up at your door during these trying times."

"Depends on what they're wearing, I guess." Nero scratched the back of his head. Not that he wanted to judge, but his last interaction with poorly dressed individuals did end with him one arm less. "They the kind that goes walking about in a habit?"

Morrison chuckled. "Like one from a nunnery? If she's anything like I remembered, she'll rather die than be caught in something like that. Speaking of, that sounds like her heading this way."  
  
Following Morrison's pointed finger to the front door, Nero heard what at first was indistinct clicking against the ground. It took a while for him to realize they were footsteps. Women in Fortuna seldom wore high heels, after all.  
  
The double door swung open, and a woman of far eastern descent walked in. Black hair tucked tightly under a wide sun hat, she still wore a pair of sunglasses to shield herself from the summer's rays. The short romper she wore shimmered gold. Actually, calling it a romper might be too generous, seeing as how the woman's arms, back and legs were entirely exposed, not to mention the plunging neckline in the front. The fact that he could see her navel registered in Nero's mind for a second before he caught himself. Thinking of how Kyrie would kill him, again, if she knew, he cursed silently and looked away, wondering what was it with the women in the demon hunting business liking scant clothing.  
  
"So you finally made it," Morrison tipped his hat. "Had a nice walk in the neighborhood, I reckon. Place wasn't too hard to find?"  
  
"Been a long time, J.D." The woman nodded towards the broker in greeting. "Had you told me how easy it was to just stroll in, I would have came years earlier."

"Ah, well, hard to say. The original proprietor might have just slammed the door in your face, unless you had something interesting to tell him." Morrison got up and pointed to those present. "Anyhow, meet these fine folks. Girl at the bar, name's Lady. That's Trish there on the table, reading. Don't mind the tired one dozing away. Although, yes, that is the granddaughter of the one and only Nell Goldstein."

"So I've heard, or rather, read," The woman commented.

"And lastly, the boy I promised to introduce to you." Morrison gestured to Nero to come over. The young demon hunter stood up with a huff. As he strolled over, he noted that despite the woman being in heels, she was still... remarkably short. Hell, even Kyrie walking around bare-footed would still beat her by a centimetre or two. "Girl, meet Nero. Nero, meet..." Morrison hesitated, and turned to the woman, waiting for her to give her name instead.

"Call me Tsukiko," she answered, extending one hand towards Nero.

Nero gingerly shook it once. As he did, he noticed that the woman's had the lightest hints of what seemed like tattoos of a sort. Nothing the continuous swirls like what a certain summoner had on his entire torso; these looked to be diagrams and scripts copied directly from a page of a demonology book, neatly transcribed with a dye onto a bicep, thigh or forearm.

Perhaps that was the reason why Nero felt Tsukiko's energy was a little odd. To say she was registering as completely human wouldn't be right, but she certainly wasn't a demon for sure. He's heard from Dante that there were other hybrids out there once before, but he wasn't sure that the likes of this foreign woman before him was what the legendary demon hunter was referring to.

Whether it was the tattoos that distracted him, or the confusion he had over the woman's being, Nero didn't say a word.

"Well, now that you're all acquainted, I'll be off." Morrison headed towards the door. "From here on, it's private business between the lot of you."

"Wait what?" Nero blinked, "She just got here!" He pointed at Tsukiko, though immediately noticed his rudeness and lowered his hand.

"I ain't one to go prying into your personal lives, kid, even with an invitation," Morrison said. "I'll leave it to you then, Tsuki."

"Avoid 45th Avenue if you're looking to dodge the incoming rush hour." The statement, coming from Tsukiko seemingly out of nowhere, had everyone except Morrison raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, I see. Thank you," the broker bowed slightly. "Well, guess 50th avenue it is today. You know how to find me if you need it."

"And I will try not to, because you would rather not be needed," Tsukiko replied nearly instantly, though voice low enough that only Nero probably heard her. The slam of the double doors as they close jolted Nico awake, who quickly sat up, wiping the drool off her face.

"What's wrong with 45th Avenue?" Nero asked, both curious and cautious.

Tsukiko gave a noncommittal shrug. "Give it... thirty minutes," she suggested, "And then you can check the traffic radio and tell me."

Nero shook his head. Another one with more mysteries than clear answers, great. "Well, fine, then in those thirty minutes, care to tell us what's been going on with all the stalkers?" It didn't take much for him to tower over the woman to give off a sense of pressure, and yet somehow, he felt the need to do it. "Morrison said there would be explanations."

"I know the truth of what happened at Redgrave."

Nero stiffened. He never told Morrison, and all those around him weren't the kind to talk. Clearly, this woman had gotten that information some other way--

"Or at least an incomplete version of it. Most importantly, I'm not the only one. The Court's nearly completely an entire book from what they've collected off of whatever they got their hands on."

"Wait, _the_ Court? The damned Occult Court?" Lady cut in. "Those stuck-up elite bastards--"

"You know about these guys?" Trish turned her head slightly away from her reading.

There was pratically a snarl in Lady's admittance. "Of course I do. I... Arkahm..." She could not bring herself to finish the sentence, instead opting to pour herself a shot of whiskey to down in one gulp.

"More specifically, it's the Northern Court that's been doing much of the digging. Redgrave is their territory, after all," Tsukiko added.

"So the Court's really not some urban legend, then," Nico said, almost in awe. "It's real."

"Well, the details are certainly made up, but their existence? Very much so," Tsukiko confirmed, leaning into the desk.

"Um, excuse me, can all of you... slow down?" Nero raised a hand, looking back and forth between the women present. "What is this Court thing, and why are they after us?"

Nico coughed. "I've only heard conspiracy theories, but...those occult magazine sometimes say there's some demon at work behind the world's government and corporations, yeah? They think all them demons belong to the same group. That's 'The Court'."

"Demons? Demons are tools for the Court, if anything. The members are very much human. Entire families, in fact, all a little too related to one another, if you ask me." Tsukiko elaborated as she took off her glasses, exposing... incredibly normal, if not round and piercing dark eyes, neatly winged with a dark eyeliner. "There's one for each cardinal direction, each assigned a region of the world to 'govern'. The Middle Court, meanwhile, acts as the central governing power that oversees operations that run on a world-wide scale."

"Who put them in charge?" Nero scoffed.

"No one, which, is why they are in charge. There's no one powerful or motivated enough lopping their heads off, telling them they _aren't_. And unfortunately for both them, and you, by extension, that is the reason why the entire fiasco at Redgrave has worked the passive-reclusive Northern Court into a frenzy. They weren't the ones responsible for the appearance of the demon tree, but now they have to deal with the consequences."

"Wait, but we're the ones who's been cleaning up..." Trish paused for thought. "Where does Morrison fit in to all this?"

"Technically, he is just another broker. The Northern Court has always been more concentrated on scholarly and archival pursuits. If they needed something done, they'll drop the occasional hint of a job towards the demon hunting free market. Sooner or later, a savvy broker will pick up the lead, and with payment going through several middlemen before reaching both broker and merc, the Court can remain in the shadows as long as they wish."

"So it's entirely possible we've done work for the Court without even realizing it?" Lady made a disgusted sound and took another drink.

"Yes. Though given their lack of prevention of infestation in the first place, the majority of the jobs in the market do not have their involvement."

"Not at all a consolation," Lady noted, rolling her eyes at the ceiling.

"No, it's not," Tsukiko concurred, "The consequences I'm speaking of though aren't about the presence of demons. It's legal ones that the Court is dealing with."

"What... does that mean?" Nero's mind blanked. Laws in Fortuna has always been determined by the Order of the Sword, nothing like the complicated bookkeeping and processes he's heard rumors of about the outside world. Nico tried explaining it to him once, and despite her spending the entire return trip describing how she almost ended up in jail once, he still couldn't quite grasp it.

"Several decades ago, nearly four now, I believe..." Tsukiko began, "Redgrave was looking into expanding their urban development program into one of the rural regions of the city. Now, it's not unusual for the government to hire the Northern Court under the guise of a prospecting company to check if a region is safe from demons before allowing for development to begin, especially if a region have had even one history of a demon attack."

"The place where the Qliphoth grew," Nero recalled. "V... He told me. The place has been attacked before."

"Something smells funky right there," Nico commented, though at the same time, Nero caught her given him a strange shake of her head, as if telling him to stop talking.

"Yes, it certainly has that feeling to it." Tsukiko didn't seem to notice the message passed between the two. "Now the documents detailing that, I haven't been able to access. So my guess is, someone paid someone off, or struck a deal somewhere to pass the inspection."

"And then the Qliphoth sprouted, and now this Court is in trouble," Trish concluded. "How unfortunate. Doesn't explain why they've got their eyes on us."

"Urizen." The name sent a cold shudder through the room. Tsukiko turned so that she could see Lady, Trish and Nero in one view. "He summoned the tree into the human world. If there is a head that the Northern Court can deliver that'll serve as penance, it would be his."

"Their two months too late if that's what they want to do," Nero said, "Someone beat them to the punch. Trust me on that, I saw it myself."

Tsukiko gave the women present a smile that said 'that's cute'. "He's not a good liar, is he?" she asked.

"What? I'm not lying. Urizen's dead, gone." Nero insisted with a cutting gesture.

"'There is no demon name Urizen.'"

The words, the way Tsukiko said it, the intonation, stirred a memory of a confession from man falling apart, barely able to stand. A man he didn't realize the identity of. "Where...where did you hear that from?" Nero asked, sputtering.

"Read. I read it, in the Northern Court's novel of a report," Tsukiko informed. "And if that's what I've been able to read, I can only imagine how much more the courts, all five of them, actually know." Before she could say more, Trish stood up from the table and put herself between Tsukiko and Nero.

"Leave Nero out of this," she warned, fist clenched.

"Ask that of the Court, not I."

"You're right." Behind the bar, Lady removed the safety off a gun and aimed. "But who else would be able to access all that information, and know all about what is going on, if they were not a member of the Court? Whoever you are, you're clearly one of them."

A tense few seconds go by, the only movement being Nico standing up and moving up the stairs so she wasn't in the line of fire.

"Trish, Lady..." Nero said, "I'm fine. I can protect myself."

"I know that, Nero, but we need some questions answered first," Trish turned back to Tsukiko. "Why did you came? I know Morrison said he was getting someone to help us, but what are you getting in return?"

Tsukiko answered, "I've a favor to repay."

"Just that, a simple favor?"

"Not just any kind. He and Enzo, they gave me an opportunity to get into the broker business some ten years ago. Without it, I would, as you are assuming right now, be a stooge of the Court. A fancy one, for certain, but not a underling nevertheless."

"And yet you still have access to their records. So what's your relationship to them, exactly?" Lady asked the question this time, gun still raised.

"Ever heard of the Mad Prophet of the Ivory Tower?"

Lady took some time to process the title. "Ye... Yeah. A guy from the Eastern Court that became a member of the Middle Court. I heard about the controversy surrounding his nomination."

"I'm his daughter."

"You're WHAT?" Lady blurted, lowering her gun in surprise. "Wait, so... you're..."

"The little moon he keeps on wondering if he'll see?" Tsukiko said, matter of fact. "Yes, that is me."

"But he's not-- your name isn't--"

"My mother."

"Oh, right. Of course." The sound of a safety being let back into place clicked. "I... think we're good, Trish."

"You sure?" The enchanting demoness asked skeptically.

"She's not with the Court, at least, not with with."

"How so?"

"Remember what we heard about the Witch of Ashes?"

"...Oh." Trish straightened, stance now visibly relaxed, if not a bit awkward. "Well, in that case... Warning still stands."

"I see my reputation preceeds me, again." Tsukiko rolled her eyes as she slipped off her hat, brushing back a few strands that had freed itself from the tight bun she had on the back of her head.

"Anyway, how much do you know about Dante?" Trish asked.

"I know about him by reputation through Morrison, mostly. As for the rest... well, whatever the Northern Court's got their hands on did inform them of his heritage, and Vergil's, by extension," Tsukiko revealed. "That said, the Court has not been able to confirm how you are connected in all this, Nero, though given Lady and Trish's reaction, I've two, maybe two and a half guesses. So are you the offspring of the older twin or...?"

Nero was already making a face before Tsukiko finished asking, giving her the answer.

"Well, that certainly explains why Morrison cashed in the giant favor. The Court will use a scapegoat, or scapegoats, if they must."

"So that's why we're been followed," Nero sighed.

"Maybe, though I don't think they're quite that desperate yet. I think they're waiting to see if either of the twins will show up on your doorstep."

"Yeah, if you can tell that Court of yours that it ain't happening, that'll be nice, thanks," Nico scoff from up on the second floor.

"It wouldn't hurt to try, though I'm certain the answer will be a resounding no." Tsukiko twirled her sun hat on one hand. "That said, I think I know what they are preparing to do, and if we can do it first, this will resolve a lot more in your favors."

"What are you proposing?" Nero asked.

Tsukiko tossed her hat up, before snatching it out of the air. "Locate Dante and Vergil's location in the Underworld before the Court gets to them. Then, if we can, get them, literally, the hell out of there."


End file.
